


No Imitations

by EndoratheWitch



Series: Gotham Nights [17]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, Batman: The Animated Series, Suicide Squad (2016)
Genre: Batman - Freeform, F/M, Gotham, Gun Fight, Harley Quinn - Freeform, Joker - Freeform, Metropolis (DCU), Mild Language, No abuse, Shooting Guns, Superman - Freeform, another joker, hostages, joker and harley in a loving relationshihp, joker gass, speaking about vomit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-04
Updated: 2018-10-04
Packaged: 2019-07-25 03:01:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,827
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16188701
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EndoratheWitch/pseuds/EndoratheWitch
Summary: Joker hears about another Joker in Metropolis





	No Imitations

Harley came walking through the main downstairs room of the hideout holding a large bowl of popcorn in the crook of her arm. She had to come down here to use the henchmen microwave because Joker had once again blown theirs up by microwaving things he shouldn’t have been just for the fun of it. Their rooms upstairs still smelled funny. She happily tossed popcorn into her mouth, her socked feet making little to no sound as she moved through the kitchen and into the main living room. The henchmen, around ten of them, were all sitting in the living room, some on the small couch, a couple on the floor and two on the arms of said couch all watching the television intently. She caught a glimpse of Frost, his arms crossed over his chest as he glared at the television. She couldn’t hear exactly what they were watching, but she just assumed it was a ball game or some other sport, or maybe even wrestling, though they were all strangely quiet. 

She stopped on the way to the stairs, her foot raised, about to land on the first step when she saw Bob was among the cluster of henchmen glued to the TV. Harley frowned. Bob didn’t usually watch sports. He liked old movies, ballet, cartoons, and soaps. It was weird that Bob was watching something so intently that all the henchmen were watching too. 

Harley turned around and walked over to the big man, reaching out to tap Bob on the arm. 

“Hey sweetie--what’s up?” she asked, her pigtails bobbing slightly when she tilted her head. 

Bob, dressed all in orange, his tutu laced with glitter, and a pair of antenne with orange fuzzies on the end of them decorating his bald head, turned to look at Harley with an expression that was a cross between confusion, fear, anger and a little bit of sadness. He motioned at Harley who came over as Bob made room for her next to him where he stood behind the couch. 

Harley gasped in shock when she saw what was on the television screen. 

* 

Joker came out of his lab whistling, a round red sucker stuffed in the side of his cheek and a happy expression on his face. He was wearing only his dress socks, brightly colored purple and blue striped ones that Harley had gotten him, purple pinstripe slacks and suspenders, and no shirt. His goggles were perched on his forehead and his green hair stuck out as if he were half porcupine, but he was pleased as punch with himself. He had come up with a new Joker gas that would really make the flying rat happy...or angry rather, but it was going to be fun regardless! 

He had just walked into the henchmen’s living room heading upstairs with thoughts of tantalizing and ravishing Harley. He stopped with one leg extended in front of him, hands in his pocket, sucker stick protruding from his mouth like a cigarette when he saw everyone gathered around the television, including Harley who was wearing a pair of very short shorts, that rode up her backside as she leaned over, her cute little rear stuck up in the air. 

For a moment he was distracted with the plump, juicy sight of her rear end, especially when she shifted her weight on her legs causing her backside to shift as well. Joker grinned around his sucker, his hands out and his fingers making grabby motions. With a pleased smirk dancing across his red lips he took a step closer, his eyes focused only on her rear end, but as he walked closer he heard the voice of a news reporter on the television. That drew him up short. No one watched the news in here unless he was on it. 

Joker frowned deeply, his eyes narrowing slightly as he stood on his toes to look over the many shoulders at the television. 

On it he saw a man with helmet hair and a face that needed a smile, badly. 

“Breaking News, a clown calling himself The Joker Nouveau has declared Metropolis his and has taken over Shuster Hall, Metropolis premier theater where a production of Wicked was playing this evening. The Joker has taken several hostages, though the exact number is not known at this time.” 

The scene showed an image of a man in an outfit Joker could only describe as a puce colored suit--badly tailored he noted--with badly dyed green hair, white clown makeup, red lips and something blue on his face. Joker wrinkled in nose in disgust. 

The camera switched to the anchor’s co-host, a black woman in a crisp red suit. “This just in folks: we’ve learned from an anonymous source that apparently the Joker is demanding $100,000 dollars, a private jet, a hundred pepperoni pizzas, a pony, two French mimes, a case of whoopie cushions and lastly, a two liter of ginger ale. Police are on the scene. Some are asking for Superman, but he is currently out of the solar system on a mission for the Justice League. This reporter has faith that our Metropolis can handle our own Joker.” 

Joker pressed his lips together and hissed. “Who asks for mimes, let alone French mimes!! This man is truly sick.” 

The group of henchmen, including Harley, all jumped a foot in the air when Joker spoke. Bob, the only one to remain unfazed by Joker’s sudden appearance, turned around and grabbed the green-haired clown into a hug, crushing the pale man’s face against his chest. 

Joker stumbled into the big man when Bob grabbed him. 

“Bob.” Joker’s voice was muffled but firm. “Not in front of the employees!” 

Bob let him go with a light pat on the head. 

Joker brushed off his bare chest as Frost came over. “Do you know anything about this guy Boss?” 

Joker narrowed his eyes at the television. “I know that he is a dead man.” 

He turned around throwing his arm into the air, finger pointed at the roof. “Boys...and my special girl.” Joker grinned at Harley who giggled with delight under his attention. 

“We are going on a road trip!!” 

* 

Frost tried to shake off his nervous feelings as he drove the stolen wagon, with WRECKING CREW painted along the side, down the highway. Joker sat in the passenger seat of the Ford Transit Wagon with Harley on his lap. Joker had dressed for the occasion looking every inch the Victorian undertaker in his all black with a long black coat that reached below his knees, a black top hair, black leather gloves and a pair of a little, round, red lensed glasses. His lipstick was a deep, dark red that looked like blood on his lips. Harley cuddled close to him, one arm around Joker’s shoulders, the fingers of her other hand caressing the small part of his exposed throat. She was dressed in a black tutu with a dark red corset wrapped around her middle, a sleeveless black top, some black fishnet stockings, thigh high black boots, black half palm gloves and her hair in pigtails with black ribbons; lastly she wore a matching pair of round, red lensed glasses. While her puddin’s lips were painted red, Harley had painted hers black. The back of van was crowded with ten henchmen all wearing clown masks or clown makeup, and dressed in black. Squished into the very back of the wagon was their equipment, some Joker gas bombs, ammo, explosive bombs, and anything else anyone could think of to cram in the back. Taking up the first row of seats in the front was Bob, dressed in a black tutu with a black feathered halo gently bobbing over his head. He had several large plastic bags on the floor at his feet and a couple in the seats next to him filled to overflowing with snacks for the road trip. 

“Frost, turn the music up!!” Joker said with a broad grin. 

Frost, who had just turned onto the road toward Metropolis, frowned slightly as he reached forward and turned up the volume before gently tapping the play button. Within seconds the road trip CD that Harley had put together began to play. 

The sounds of Crocodile Rock began to play followed by the loud out of key singing of all the henchmen in the back, rocking back and forth to the music. This was accompanied by the beautiful singing voice of Harley and Joker, their cheeks together as they sang loudly. Bob bobbed his head to the music. 

“Well Crocodile Rocking is something shocking 

When your feet just can't keep still 

I never knew me a better time and I guess I never will 

Oh Lawdy mama those Friday nights 

When Suzie wore her dresses tight 

And the Crocodile Rocking was out of sight…” 

Frost sighed inwardly. This was going to be a very long hour and a half drive. 

* 

The wagon arrived in Metropolis not quite two hours later (they had to stop at a rest stop and then Joker insisted on holding up a gas station for the fun of it where, instead of stealing money, they had simply stolen some cigarettes and packages of cupcakes, leaving the clerk crying on the floor in his own urine when Joker had done nothing except say “Boo!” to the young man.) Frost pulled the vehicle up along the sidewalk between two buildings, hiding them from view a little ways from the hostage situation that was still going on at the Shuster Hall. 

The place was surrounded by police cars, reporters, and gawkers. Joker, Harley, Frost and Bob all stood at the end of the sidewalk in front of their wagon watching the action. 

Joker muttered. “I hate Metropolis. Too bright...too cheerful...the only funny thing about this place is that big buffoon they have that flies around with his underwear on the outside.” 

Harley giggled, her arms wrapped around Joker’s. She leaned her head against his shoulder. “It’s definitely a lot less dark than Gotham.” 

Joker muttered. “I hate it.” 

Bob agreed, nodded vigorously. 

Frost frowned. “So, how we going to get into the building without anyone seeing us Boss?” 

Joker narrowed his eyes behind his ruby lensed glasses, rubbing his chin before he smiled with a thought. “We are just going to enter the classic way my friends, by simply walking in.” 

Frost’s frown deepened with uncertainty, but Joker had never steered him wrong...much. 

* 

Coe made his way to the top of the building. It was fairly easy considering everyone’s attention was on Shuster Hall, plus he had removed his rubber clown mask and stuffed it in the backpack on his back. 

Once he was on the roof of the building just right of the theater, he walked over to the edge, pulling up the binoculars around his neck just as Bonk came over to the edge of the building on the other side of the theater and waved across the distance. Coe narrowed his eyes. 

“Idiot,” he thought. 

Bonk was good at taking orders, but he was otherwise rather stupid. Not like him, Coe thought to himself--he was going places. He was going to be the best henchman ever! He grinned happily to himself as he shrugged out of this backpack, pulled the zipper open, and began pulling out the parts of the grenade launcher that Joker had given him. He took a couple of minutes to put it together before he pulled out the colorful purple Joker grenades--painted with smiley faces by Harley herself--that nestled at the bottom of his backpack. 

Once finished, the grenade launcher was loaded with six rounds. He walked over to the edge and waved. A few seconds later Bonk waved back, confirming that he too was ready. Coe grinned and glanced down, waiting for the signal. This was going to be great! He only wished he could be inside when Joker took care of this imposter, but at least he had been trusted with driving the wagon! Getaway driver was definitely a step up from just plain henchman. Yeah...he was definitely coming up in the world. 

* 

Down below, sitting behind the wheel of the wagon, Frost hung up his phone. “Bonk says they’re both ready. He also said Coe is an idiot.” Frost shrugged, not sure why he conveyed that information. 

Joker chuckled. “All right boys and girls--everyone ready?” 

There were murmurs in the positive from behind. Bob nodded his head with enthusiasm and Harley wiggled delightfully in his lap. Joker grinned, wrapping his arms tight around her and squeezed while rubbing his nose against her cheek. Harley squealed, which only made his smile widen. 

Joker laughed. “Give the signal my sweet Frost!” 

Frost nodded and hit a button on his phone. 

* 

At the same time on Bonk’s phone and Coe’s, the chimes of circus music began to play. Both men smiled, picked up their launchers and settled the stocks against their shoulders. At the same time they both pulled their triggers and were rewarded with the deep thunk sound as the colorful grenades were launched down on the unsuspecting crowds below. 

* 

No one noticed the colorful projectiles that came flying down from two of the surrounding buildings on either side of the theater until it was too late. The first two projectiles were swiftly followed by two more, and another two, flying merrily through the air. The little projectiles descended so quickly that no one registered them, even after the first hit the ground, exploding into bright green gas. No one was sure what was happening and so reaction was slow as several more broke open and released clouds of bright green gas. 

Someone finally screamed, but the scream quickly morphed into a laugh, followed by several more people laughing. The Metropolis police were slow at responding, their attention fully on the theater. By the time any of them had completely registered what was happening, they were enveloped in gas until everyone surrounding the building, from officers, to emergency workers, to the gawking onlookers, were laughing hysterically. 

That was the moment the wagon zipped into crowd with Frost behind the wheel, his gas mask on, his eyes tense and focused as he steered through the crowd of laughing, staggering people. He was glad he had gone to that high performance driving school because he was certainly putting his skills to the test as he dashed through the thick green gas, and somehow--amazingly--missing laughing pedestrians who would suddenly lurch out of the smoke like zombies...laughing zombies. 

“Boss, is this gas going to kill them?” Frost asked. If it was than he wasn’t going to worry about not hitting anyone, because if they were going to die anyway… 

“Oh no no, just makes them laugh until they are sick and incoherent. Oh and paralyzed, temporarily of course.” Joker’s smile was wide, pleased with himself. “I thought it would be funny to have them all tossing their cookies...which should be happening in the next few minutes...then falling over paralyzed in their own vomit!” Joker laughed. “The Metropolis police laying in their own…” 

Harley made a grim face. “Puddin, that’s disgusting.” 

Joker frowned sticking his bottom lip out then sighed. “You’re right sweets. That is disgusting.” He smiled again though. “All right next time, we’ll just use the traditional gas and they can die laughing instead of laughing until their sick, okay?” 

Harley nodded, satisfied. “Better puddin.” 

Joker giggled and pulled her close, pressing his lips against her throat and nibbling until Harley was squealing. Frost swung the wagon around in a move that would have made Mario Andretti proud, managing to parallel park right in front of the theater. 

Joker pushed the door open, dropping Harley to her feet before he followed her. “All right boys and girls, everyone pile out. We are here to clear my name!!” 

He strolled forward, pushed the double doors open and stepped inside, as if he were making a grand entrance with Harley at his side; his gang quickly following behind him. 

* 

The man calling himself Joker Nouveau strolled between his hostages, his gun resting on his shoulder. He and his gang of around eight men had let the majority of the patrons rush out when they had come in guns blazing, having set their sights on the two front rows for their hostages. They had also taken a handful of the performers as well; a green witch, a woman in a large pink dress and a few other random actors when a few of his men had come through the back of the theater. He now had all of these people currently huddled on the stage together. A few were actually crying. 

Joker N. grinned, pleased with himself. After making it big here in Metropolis, he was headed to Gotham. It was time for a newer, younger, fresher Joker, he thought to himself. In with the new, out with the old. 

* 

At the back of the theater the fools, Joker noted, had left the lights off instead of turning on all the lights in the theater to banish any dark spots. (They clearly had no idea how to do things...Batman would have eaten them alive by now.) Joker crouched behind some of the theater chairs, his gloved fingers curled along the back of one of the seats so that only the top of his head, green hair and top hat, and his glasses were visible over the top of the chair, watching the other Joker prance back and forth across the stage. His men were wandering about, looking bored. There was no theater, no production. The hostages were just sitting on the stage, their wrists duct taped together, but that was it. Nothing about this new Joker wannabe had any of the flare that he himself had. Joker snorted quietly in disgust. On one side of him was Harley, on the other Frost. The rest of his gang, including Bob, stretched down the row of seats, all of them poking their eyes over the top to watch the action on the stage. 

Joker narrowed his eyes in disgust as he watched Joker Nouveau. His men weren’t even dressed as clowns!! They looked more like...like mimes!! 

“I hate him. Not only is he using my name, but he dresses like a...like...well I don’t know what he dresses like, but I don’t like it.” He muttered to himself. “That stupid suit is just tacky and...and…” Joker made a noise of disgust. 

Harley, who was right next to her puddin, her hands holding the back of the seat as she crouched next to him and glared with equal if not more disgust. “And he’s ugly.” 

Joker looked sideways at Harley, a big grin of pleasure of in his face as he nodded. “Yeah, he’s ugly too. He definitely lacks my extraordinary good looks.” 

Harley giggled and lightly elbowed Joker. “That he does puddin or doesn’t.” 

They both giggled. 

Joker whispered. “You really think I’m pretty good looking pumpkin?” 

“Oh, yes I do!” Harley purred. 

Joker grinned and reached for her, yanking her close and ducking back behind the chairs. He kissed her passionately, dropping back to his rear as he pulled Harley onto his lap. Harley giggled, wrapped her legs and arms around him as she plopped down on his lap kissing him with equal enthusiasm. For a few seconds Joker forgot all about Joker Nouveau as his hands slid under Harley’s tutu to grab her rear, pulling her closer still to rub against him when Frost cleared his throat. 

“Ah Boss...uh...shouldn’t we take care of him first? You know, before…” Frost whispered. 

Joker sighed. “Yes, yes you’re right, business before pleasure.” 

He smiled at Harley on his lap. “Though as soon as this is done I am going to have my way with you...I want to see that tutu you’re wearing bounce.” 

Harley giggled. “Oh puddin, you are so dirty.” She rubbed her nose against him purring. “But I would like that very much.” 

He kissed her one more time before she crawled off of his lap and back to his side. 

Frost glanced at Bob who only smiled. It amazed him how Bob never batted an eye about the Boss and Harley going at it in front of them. He really needed to learn the bald man’s secrets. 

“So Boss, how are we going to do this?” Frost asked. 

Joker frowned in thought. “Perhaps he’ll see reason when confronted with the real thing.” 

Harley didn’t look convinced. “I don’t know puddin...” 

But before she could stop him, Joker grabbed her hand and simply stood up pulling Harley to her feet beside him. Frost smacked his head against the back of the seat. 

“I know imitation is supposed to be the highest form of flattery, but I find it to be downright insulting.” Joker sighed as he stood up. 

Joker Nouveau and all his men turned, their guns aiming into the darkness, but they couldn’t see the speaker. 

Joker Nouveau snarled. “Who the fuck are you and how did you get in here?” 

From the back of the theater Joker Nouveau heard a sigh, then saw the flash of a flame. He watched the flame illuminate a ghostly figure with pale chalky colored skin as a match was held up to a cigarette held between two red lips. 

Joker took a couple of puffs to get the cigarette lit, the end of the cigarette glowed red, making the red tinted glasses glow eerily. 

“So, Joker Nouveau...isn’t that a mouthful to say,” Joker said slowly. 

Joker Nouveau narrowed his eyes aiming his pistol at Joker. “I said, who are you? And whose the skank?” 

Joker held his arms out. “I, my dear, am the real Joker and the skank as you so eloquently put it, is my girlfriend Harley Quinn.” 

Harley snarled and hissed under her breath. “Can I kill him puddin?” 

“Not yet dear,” Joker said softly. 

Joker Nouveau laughed at them. (Joker frowned...the man’s laugh was horrible. No class, no humor...just sad really. A pitiful imitation that lacked any real humor or theatrics.) 

“You ain’t the real Joker. He’s in Gotham and you aren’t even wearing purple.” The other man laughed his horrible sounding laugh. “Besides, he’s old. I’m going to be the new terror of Gotham AND Metropolis. I’m going to make everyone fear me!! I am not going to be the Clown Prince of Crime, but instead I will be the KING of CLOWNS.” 

Joker cocked his hip to the side and rested his elbow in his hand, his cigarette dangling between his fingers. He glanced at Harley, lifted a brow at her, his blue eyes gazing at her over the top of his glasses with an expression of disbelief. “I really should think about trademarking my name because this is just ridiculous.” 

Harley nodded in response before she turned, cupping her hands around her mouth as she yelled at the stage. “You suck.” 

Joker snorted on a laugh. 

Joker Nouveau yelled back. “Shut up you ugly cunt!” 

Harley gasped loudly in shock. 

Joker snarled, flicking his cigarette into the darkness (one of his men let out a muffled yelp as a burning cigarette landed on his head). “Oh, now that’s just too much. Insulting a man’s girl!! This shall be met with force I say!” Joker emphasized his disgust by thrusting his finger into the air like a cartoon character. 

He pulled out his gun and before anyone had time to react, he shot, hitting Joker Nouveau in the knee. 

The hostages screamed. Joker Nouveau collapsed on the stage and his men began to shoot at Joker and Harley who ducked down behind their seats. They could hear the sounds of shots being fired from the stage followed by Joker’s gang firing back. One of Joker’s clowns let out a choking gargle as he was shot in the throat and fell back. On the stage one of Joker Nouveau’s men went down. 

Joker Nouveau dragged himself behind the Wicked Witch of the West, wrapping an arm around her throat and using her as a shield. The woman screamed, her singing ability giving her scream a nice high pitch that carried easily. 

Over the sounds of gunfire and shouting, Harley giggled and threw her arms around Joker covering his face all over in kisses. “Oh puddin!! You shot him for me!” 

Joker chuckled catching her, grinning from ear to ear and delighting in her kissing him all over. “Anything for you sweets,” he said with real affection as he held her close. 

Frost fired a shot before he glanced over at Joker. “Do you want us to use the gas grenades boss or do you want to play with them a little longer?” 

Joker frowned, turning to look at Frost. “Who did we just lose?” 

Frost looked over, leaning back in the row a little before he answered. “I think it was Woof.” 

Joker frowned in thought. “Mm...nah, let’s play a little longer…” 

Another of Joker’s men went down with a cry of pain, a gunshot to the chest. One of Joker Nouveau’s men fell off the stage dead, while two of the hostages were shot. 

Joker narrowed his eyes. “Who was that?” 

Frost looked. “It was Chucko sir.” 

Joker gasped sharing a look with Harley. “He killed Chucko!” 

Harley put her hands over her mouth. “Not Chucko!” 

Joker yelled. “All right boys and girls!! Don your gas masks!” 

Everyone hunkered down behind their seats, pulling the gas masks that they had worn while coming into the theater back into place. Each of them had a backpack or belt across their chests that held several grenades of Joker’s non-fatal laughing gas. The only ones not wearing masks were Joker, Harley and Bob. 

Everyone grabbed a grenade and waited, all eyes on Joker. 

Joker put a finger up. “On my mark...” 

Harley giggled. 

Joker grinned at her and winked before he shouted. “FOR ENGLAND!! FOR CHUCKO!!” 

He yanked the pin out and threw. His gas grenade flew high into the air, followed by several others. 

Joker Nouveau watched in horrid fascination as several green and purple canisters flew toward the stage. It almost looked like it was raining grenades, the metal canisters trailing bright green smoke behind them as they arced in slow motion. It was rather pretty Joker Nouveau thought, in a weird and horrible sort of way. In the next second the canisters either hit the stage or landed in some of the front rows of seats; the bright green gas quickly filled the area, rolling over the stage and the people on it. 

Joker stood up with Harley just as the laughter began. 

Harley whispered. “I’m not going over there if there is vomit puddin.” 

Joker sighed rolling his eyes. “Okay, I understand...no more of the vomit inducing Joker gas. Geez Harley.” 

* 

Batman sighed as he waited on top of Wayne tower. He only had to wait a few minutes before he saw the streak that he knew wasn’t a falling star. The streak quickly turned and headed toward him, revealed to be Superman as it drew closer. Superman was speeding toward him then slowed down before he landed lightly in front of Batman. 

“Bruce.” 

“Clark.” 

“So--the Joker,” Superman said with a sigh. 

Batman frowned. “Joker Nouveau?” 

Superman shrugged. “ No, your Joker...I was off planet at the time…” 

Batman grunted. 

Superman sighed. “Look, can you keep your clown in Gotham?” 

“He is not my clown,” Bruce said evenly. 

Superman frowned. “He left Joker Nouveau strangled on the stage hanging from the rafters with a sign on the body that read: “Accept No Substitutes.”” 

Batman sighed in annoyance, though Superman wasn’t sure if that annoyance was with the Joker or with him. Probably both, Superman decided. 

Superman put his hands on his hips. “Is he back yet?” 

Batman shook his head. “Not that I’m aware of.” 

Both men sighed and at the same time said. “I hate clowns.” 

* 

At a rest stop somewhere between Gotham and Metropolis, Frost, Bob and the rest of the surviving gang sat outside at the park bench lit only by the orange and yellow lights that ringed the rest stop, the remains of fast food bags on the table and some snack cakes between them. A few of the men were smoking cigarettes, while others were just talking. Bob was listening to his ancient IPOD, bopping his head merrily while Frost glanced over at the wagon. 

Occasionally the vehicle would shift in place followed by a passionate scream or an exclamation of: 

“Harder puddin.” 

“Yes Harley!” 

Frost sighed...he knew they we never going to make it home before the two of them attacked each other. 

He wished he had a drink.


End file.
